Time passed in the imposing mansion of the Dukes of Fitzwilliam. Seven in the morning turned into eight, nine, and ten. It was already eleven, and Thomas still hadn't appeared! It seemed that no one was concerned about the carriage, while Isabella felt as if she had been stood up on a date that only existed in her mind.
“Why hasn't he arrived? He promised to be here early in the morning. He was so confident in his words that I believed him,” thought Isabella as she sat by one of the beautiful windows, decorated with soft cushions for resting or even sleeping if desired. The young woman lounged there like a bored princess, watching the scenery until one of her maids interrupted her thoughts.
—Miss Isabella, someone has arrived! You asked me to inform you if there were visitors, and it's a
